


b-a-b-y, that's you!

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Animal Death, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Courting Rituals, Female Hermann Gottlieb, Female Newton Geiszler, Female Newton Geiszler/Female Hermann Gottlieb, Femslash, Fluff, Genderbending, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Repression, Rule 63, good dad jacob geiszler go king, hands..... they are lesbians, oh and hermine is a trans butch let's be clear here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: Hermine's been acting weirdly nice, lately. Not weirdly nice as in it's weird she's being nice, weird as in she's being nice in a very, very weird way. The point is that it's weird, and Newt's a little put-off, and she doesn't really know how to feel about. Well, she does, butthatis the bigger fish to fry here.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	b-a-b-y, that's you!

**Author's Note:**

> bangs my big ole pots and pans together ON ALL LEVELS EXCEPT PHYSICAL HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS A LESBIAN AND SO SHE IS. this was originally intended for valentine's day, but then Some Shit Which We Are All Horrifically Aware Of happened and is happening, so here we go. @bae-science on tumblr, @shakesexual on twt. don't talk to me about the penthouse OR the drivesuits.

“Pumpkin,” says Jacob Geiszler in That Tone of Voice, and Newt groans internally with a speed that would make Pavlov proud.

“Dad.”

“I know I ask almost every time we talkー”

“No, it’s pretty much every time; I can promise.”

“But your uncle and I take our duty to embarass you very, very seriouslyー”

“I’m excruciatingly aware, thanks.”

“And we just want to know if there’s any new developmentsー”

Newt gives up trying to derail the conversation, and instead turns her attention to the hangnail she’s spent the past day steadily ripping up from her cuticle. She really does need to trim those things, especially if she wants to use the new polish that finally came in. Maybe she can steal some kind of oil from the kitchens? Just enough to fill, like, a teeny-tiny bottle; nothing anybody would miss. Would canola work? Olive, probably, although if they have sunflower that would be even better. Probably should let the torn skin heal, though; those things hurt like a bitch if they sense so much as a breeze. She really needs to get better nervous habits. Didn’t she have a fidget cube at one point? She probably did. Probably. Yeah, Newt definitely bought a black and red one; where the hell did she putー

“And of course we’re not trying to insert a pressure to have kids into this,” Jacob continues, and Newt snaps to attention.

“I fucking hope not; we haven’t reached _A Modest Proposal_ just yet.”

“That’s a little dark, bug.”

Newt flicks at the tiny flap of skin. “Which is why I meant it as a joke, _Dad_ , mainly to highlight the present absurdity of you asking me if I have a partner every single time I call, and expecting to get a different answer.”

“The definition of insanity does not apply here, and you know it,” Jacob says lightly, which does its job of annoying Newt even more. “You’re working in a big honking base full of lots of nice-looking people, you’re pretty much the smartest person thereー”

“Pretty much,” says Newt flatly.

“I just can’t understand how you’re not fighting away folks with a scalpel, sweetheart! What kind of big heads do those pilots have, hmm?”

“Dad, I can assure you that a Jaeger pilot would be literally the last person on this _entire_ base to be interested in me,” Newt says with a roll of her eyes. “Well,” she amends, “second-last before Hermine.”

There’s an odd, brief pause on the other end of the line, then Jacob starts to say, “So what aboutー”

“No,” Newt says quickly, “no, no, we’ve been over this, I like my shins intact, thanks. Next question.”

He sighs. “I just wish I knew you were doing something other than working yourself half to death in that lab all the time.”

“I’m in a DnD group?” Newt tries, then realizes how pathetic that sounds. “Look, Dad, firstly, you’re right: I am in the lab all the time because there’s a _war_ happening, and if that comes at the price of a ‘social life’, well, that’s one hell of an easy one to pay. And secondly, c’mon. If I could count on one hand the number of times someone actually hit on me with, like, the genuine purpose of flirting? I could use those fingers to make a finger gun. It’s just not gonna happen, okay?”

There’s a stray clicking noise, and Newt glances back towards the lab doors in alarm, but it’s probably just the sound of Jacob shifting on the other end. He gives another sigh.. “You know I just want whatever’s gonna make you happy, right?”

Newt smiles despite herself. “I know.”

“And you’re not allowed to become a crazy cat lady, y’hear?”

“Dad,” Newt says knowingly. Jacob makes an exasperated noise.

“Right, yes, ‘crazy reptile lady’, how could I forget.”

“Honestly. Father of the year will _not_ be going to you.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep campaigning, then. Stay safe. Give yourself more breaks than you think you need. I love you, okay _Schnucki_?”

Newt feels her face heat up, and she stares up at the lab ceiling in the prayer of exasperated daughters everywhere. “Love you too, Dad. Give some to Uncle Illia, too.”

There’s a crackle as he pats the receiver, the gesture the three of them give in place of a hug. “If I must,” he says, then hangs up. Newt stares down at her phone for a second, and there’s a twist in her chest she always gets after being reminded of the distance between them. She sighs and rolls her shoulders back, listening to the joints pop like a sleeve of bubble wrap. Right. Mushy time over, work time now.

Only a few seconds after she snaps her gloves on, Hermine enters briskly through the doors, walking straight to her computer and sitting down. Newt makes a noise of greeting, seeing that she’s in A Zone and knowing very little will get through until whatever’s on her mind is finished. Hermine types something quickly, then puts on her reading glasses and stares intensely at the screen. Newt wonders what it is she’s so focused on. Some academic article, probably. Nothing Newt needs to worry about.

She _does_ wonder _what_ on JSTOR could be making her blush that hard, though.

* * *

Along with the nail polish, Newt also ordered herself a new tie, mainly because that sucker had tiny multicolored iguanas on it, and targeted ads be damned, she can’t resist a good rainbow lizard. The next day is a Friday, which to Newt means toeing the line of dress code in the name of actually fun clothing choices, so she decides to show it off. Tendo gives it an appreciative nod in the mess hall, and Newt shows him the site where she got it so he can check out their bowties, and Chuck visibly rolls his eyes at the (purposefully) loud colors, so Newt considers it a five star purchase.

She’s expecting Hermine to do the same, or maybe file a complaint about “inappropriate lab attire” (again), so Newt figures why not get the ball rolling early? She puffs out her chest just slightly when Hermine glances her way as she walks in, smirking when her eyes widen. Six stars, no contest.

When Newt _doesn’t_ expect is to sit down for work, get about ten or so minutes into writing up a supplies requisition, and be interrupted by someone softly clearing their throat next to her.

She looks up to see Hermine standing there awkwardly, cane fisted in both hands, staring at Newt’s tie like it’s the monster under the bed. _Oh boy_ , thinks Newt, _here it comes_.

“Your tie,” says Hermine in a weird, almost strangled voice, “it’s… very nice. I am appreciative of lizards.”

What.

“Uh,” says Newt, wholey unsure as to how to respond to that. “Thanks? They’re iguanas.”

“I know,” she replies, still refusing to meet Newt’s eyes in favor of having a staring contest with the tie, “you can tell by the crest. And the relaxed dewlap. Very accurate. Aside from the coloration, of course.”

Newt subtly glances around the lab for hidden cameras. “I, uh, yeah. They don’t typically come in pink.”

Hermine gives her a short, decisive nod. “Indeed.” Then, without a single explanation as to, perhaps, what the _fuck_ that was all about, she turns, transfers her cane to one hand, and walks back to her desk.

It is an extremely, _highly_ rare event for Newt to be made speechless by anything, especially Hermine, but she takes the end of her tie and stares at it for a good three minutes, as if the iguanas somehow hold the key to her lab partner’s eccentricities. They do not, and Newt remains flabbergasted. Is this a joke? Is Hermine testing her for… something? Is she getting back at Newt for (Newt runs through her list of Recent Things That Pissed Hermine Off) the thing with the kettle? Or the thing with the kitchenette sink drain? Or the thing with all of Hermine’s chalk, which she totally could have just gotten more of at the drugstore ten minutes away, and Newt didn’t have time to put in a request for calcium carbonate?

Newt sneaks a glance over at her desk, but Hermine’s unreadable, focused expression gives nothing away. She shrugs. What _ever_. If Hermine wants to play weird mind games because she already went through every sudoku book in existence, Newt doesn’t want in. She’s not gonna give her the satisfaction of seeing her affected.

* * *

“God motherfucking shitstain damnit!”

Newt hears the clack of Hermine’s cane as she cautiously comes to see what’s wrong, but all she can focus on is the cold, limp little body in her hands. Ratger Bacon’s fur is dull and dusty, and the ribs Newt can feel poking through his skin tell her exactly who used to be at the bottom of the pecking order. She hisses out her anger through her teeth.

“Assholes. Why can’t you just do what humans do and bully each other on the internet?” she mumbles, stroking his fur sadly with two fingers. His tail flops between her middle and ring. 

“Oh dear,” Hermine says softly, peering over her shoulder. “Was it sick?”

Newt snorts. “No. The other rats just starved him out.” She scrapes her teeth along the inside of her bottom lip. “I really liked the little guy.”

Hermine gives her the faintest of tentative pats on her arm. “IーI’m sorry, Newton. I know how attached you get to the specimens.”

“He always knew which finger I used to push stuff onto my fork, ‘cause he licked that one and didn’t bite it,” she says. Hermine makes a noise that means she’s thinking, and Newt’s expression sours. “I know what you’re gonna say, and don’t tell me I shouldn’t name them, okay? I’m not really interested in that lecture right now.”

“Wellーno,” says Hermine. “Actually, I was wondering if we were allowed to bury him on the grounds. IーI thought that might make you feel a bit better.”

Newt’s mouth twitches, and she turns to give Hermine an incredulous look. “You wouldn’t give me any grief for trying to bury a lab rat in the middle of February?”

Hermine heaves a long-suffering sigh that Newt can tell is entirely for show. “I think it’ll still be bloody cold, but…” she hesitates. “Caring deeply for your animals, no matter how doomed their purpose, is also an admirable quality.” She gives Newt’s arm another awkward pat. “I mean, wellーI suppose you’ve always seemed like the type of person I’d like to, say, raise chickens with. As an example.”

Newt doesn’t know whether to feel perturbed, or oddly charmed at the compliment(?). “Um, thanks?” she says. Then, deciding it was, in fact, a positive remark, “Thank you. That’s really nice of you to say, dude.”

Hermine’s face goes scarlet, and she pulls her hand away to awkwardly pass her cane back and forth between both. “It’s nothing. Of course. I’ll send a message to Human Resources to confirm we’re allowed.”

She turns to leave, but Newt, without thinking, grabs her currently free hand loosely by the wrist. “Wait,” she says, then realises she doesn’t exactly have a plan after that. Hermine gives her a set of wide, confused eyes, and Newt’s train of thought tumbles further off its bridge when she realises that they’re brown. Of course, she already knew that; Hermine sent her a picture back duringーwell. A while ago, but she guesses the photo didn’t really capture everything, especially at the professional distance from which it was taken, because Hermine’s eyes aren’t just _brown_ -brown, they’re deep, surprisingly warm doe-eyes that almost seem to fade inwards to the black color of her pupil. Newt wonders if they could get to a point where it would be impossible to tell one from the other; dark, maybe, with desire; heady things that she could get lost in along with those slim, precise fingersー

“Newton, are you about to collapse?” Hermine asks, visibly flustered, and Newt jerks back and shoves her hand into the pocket of her jeans.

“No,” she says quickly, scratching her fingers hard against her thigh in an effort to will away her flush. “Umーno, I was gonna say something, but I forgot. It’s good.” She realizes she is still holding a dead rat, and quickly places Ratger gently next to the cage. “You’re good. Ask HR.”

Hermine looks at her oddly. “Alright. You haven’t inhaled any more fumes as of late, have you?”

Sensing the chance for an out via argument, Newt jumps on it. “Oh for fuck’s sake, it was _one time_ and I only passed out for three goddamn minutesー”

“Every time you blew your nose for the next four weeks, it came out blue! Blue, Newton!”

Newt half-runs after her as Hermine returns to her side of the room, trying to ignore the weird fluttering in her chest that may or may not have been there for a while.

* * *

When Newt hears the little “Ah!” and a hiss of pain come from a few feet behind her, she doesn’t hesitate, dropping her forceps and rushing over to Hermine’s desk in the time it takes to pull her gloves off. 

“What happened?” she asks quickly, glancing over the scene to see what might have caused the sound. “Are you okay, did you burn yourself? Do I need to call medical?”

Hermine, thoroughly caught off guard, looks up from where she’s holding her pinky just above a piece of paper, beads of red welling up from the cut on it. “Please, do,” she says dryly, giving Newt a droll look. “Perhaps they have the plasters with the little thermometers on them.”

Newt rolls her eyes. “They’re called bandaids, you weirdo,” she says, moving to one of the drawers at the kitchenette sink and pulling out a box. “Here, lemme see it.”

“Newton, I am perfectly capable ofー” Hermine starts, but stops when Newt takes the finger carefully and peels off the backing of the bandaid to wrap it around the cut. She makes that strange, strangled noise from the tie incident.

“If you call these things plasters, you clearly don’t know how to put one on,” Newt says sarcastically, hoping it hides the tingling in her skin when it touches Hermine’s own. She finishes pressing down the ends, and gives it a light tap. “There. Need me to kiss it better?”

She waits for the inevitable sneer, but glances up after a moment to see Hermine staring down at their hands, still touching. “Your hands are very callused,” she says faintly, “but they’re quite soft. Do you, ah, moisturize often?”

Newt suddenly finds it very hard to swallow. “I, uh…” she says, overwhelmed with the knowledge of how neatly groomed Hermine’s fingernails are, the way her thin lips look when parted slightly. “Uh. When I shower, I, um. I use the ointment I put on new tattoos. Helps with dry skin.”

“Fascinating,” says Hermine, and Newt is nearly barreled over with the rogue desire to lean down and press the tip of that finger to her mouth. _Am I in a fucking Joe Wright movie?_ she thinks, and pushes down the lump in her throat.

“Yep. Aquafor. Breakfast of champions.” She freezes. “For skin. I don’t eat it. Well, maybe a little if I eat something right after I put it on, but then it’s always on accident; I don’t actually like the taste. If it has taste. I wouldn’t really know.”

Hermine opens her mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut. “Righto. Bon appétit. For your ointment that you are not eating.” A look comes over her face like she just drank spoilt milk. “Thank you for my finger.”

Newt gives her a quick nod, then moves away at a normal, non-frantic pace and takes three tries to pick up the forceps. Her hands are sweaty. She needs to put new gloves on. Why did she forget to put new gloves on? She has six PhDs. Fuck. And Hermine’s as cool as a goddamn cucumber. 

She shakes her head to clear it, then chances a look across the room. Hermine is bent back over her desk, crossing something off a sheet of paper. Probably a to-do list; she’d have something nerdy and organized like that. Jesus Christ; Newt feels like a teenager all over again. 

Is this a crush? How fucking long has _this_ been a thing? Should Newt, like… do something about it?

No, no, definitely not. If Newt tried to flirt with her, Hermine probably wouldn’t even know she was doing it.

* * *

“And that,” says Newt, gesturing just widely enough not to hit the rung of Hermine’s ladder above her, “is why sorting your books by color is always better than the author's name. If you run out of space on one bookshelf and have to get another, you have to either reorganize everything and start all over again, or look in two different places for the same author. Color sorting works no matter how many shelves you have.”

Hermine, standing a few rugs above where Newt is perched, makes a slash through a numerator and scoffs. “If you want to be wildly disorganized then yes, it makes perfect sense.”

“How is the hassle of constantly shifting everything around every time you get a new book worth that?” she asks. “With color, you just see what color the cover is, look at the rainbow, and boom! Way less guess and check.”

“Well with your method, it would likely take even more time.”

Newt rolls her eyes and hops off the rung, dusting the chalk that had drifted down from above off of her jeans. “Whatever. Mine looks way cooler.”

“I do desperately hope that isn’t the point of the whole thing,” says Hermine, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Newt takes a few steps forward, plops into Hermine’s extremely nice desk chair, and begins slowly spinning in circles. Hermine frowns. “Stop that. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I’m going, like, one mile per hour, dude.”

She sighs. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Nope,” Newt says with a coordinated shrug and push against the floor. “I’m waiting for my cultures to stain. We’ve got time and a few, baby.”

“Lovely,” grumbles Hermine, and glances over at the papers on her desk with a strange little side-eye. “Please go wear out the joints on your _own_ chair.”

Newt figures she wasn’t supposed to catch that look, and so immediately stops and rolls over to where the papers are spread out. “What’cha working on? Is somebody letting you do their taxes for fun and whimsy?”

“Nothing of your concern,” Hermine snaps, shifting her weight onto her good leg to lean off the ladder and towards Newt. “Those are my private files, Newton; do not touch anything.”

Newt snorts. “Dude, it’s fine, you know I don’t actually think your work is stupid, right?”

“ _Newton_ ー”

“I don’t!” she insists, pushing the papers aside as she glances at them. There’s a few piles of graph paper filled with plots and intervals, one thick packet consisting of hypothesis test after hypothesis test concerningーsomething; Newt can’t really tell, and a single sheet of computer paper with a bulleted list of words and several points crossed out. She picks it up and skims over it as she says, “Honestly, both our studies have chemistry together, dude, it’s not like I don’t know anything aboutー”

Newt cuts herself off, freezing for a moment before reading down the list again. _”Compliment outfit/item of clothing.” “Provide specific, flattering reasoning as to why you want them as a partner.” “Initiate and maintain for an appropriate period of time, intimate physical touch.”_ “Hermine?” she says slowly, unable to hide a slight tremor in her voice as her stomach turns into a lump of ice. “What the hell is this?”

Hermine takes a last, hurried step down from her ladder and grabs her cane, rushing over to try and grab the list out of Newt’s hands. Newt stands and takes a step back in one jerky, tight movement. The paper crumples slightly in her fist. “No, seriously, why do you have a list of all the weird things you’ve done these past few weeks spelled out like fucking _Teen Vogue_ for mathletes?”

“Weird?” Hermine echoes, looking almost hurt before panic overwhelms her face. “IーNewton, please, IーI’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for it to turn into this.”

Newt can feel her face getting hotter and hotter as the paper condenses further. “What do you mean ‘turn into this’? Were youーwere you getting back at me for something? What the hell did I do?!”

“ _Nothing_ ,” she says emphatically, hand twitching over her cane. “Newton, I heard you speaking with your fatherーI never meant to eavesdrop, I promise, andーand you mentioned you had never been, well, courted beforeー”

“ _Courted_?!”

“So,” she continues, breathing faster, “so I thought, as your friend, I should do something toーto cheer you up and give you that, because that’s what good friends do.”

An ugly, thick feeling twists itself around Newt’s chest and squeezes. “You… you pretended to hit on me because you felt _sorry_?”

“How could I possibly feel sorry, Newton, I never had it either!” Hermine snaps, then makes an effort to compose herself. “No, IーGod, I could tell it was something you’d like, and you get quite enough grief from those around here who haven’t the foggiest idea what they’re talking about, and IーI wanted to do something for you to make you happy!” Newt realizes, with a start, that there are tears building at the corners of Hermine’s eyes. “And I promise, that was all it was at first; my intentions were purely platonic,” she continues, a note of desperation steadily building in her voice, “but then, when you seemed to like it, I realized that I didn’t just want to do it for your benefit, IーI wanted to do it for mine, as well.” She looks as if she’s about to be sick. “It was selfish, I know, but the more I… flirted with you, the more I wanted it to mean something beyond friendship. I wanted you to feel wanted, yes, of course, but then all of a sudden I wanted you to want me back.”

Newt’s jaw is on the floor. “So you… you did, like, genuine fucking research on how to hit on me properly, as a friend. For me. And then you started doing it for the _actual reason most people flirt with someone_... and you feel _bad_ about it?”

Hermine sighs miserably. “I’m so, so sorry Newton. I never should have let myself ruin everything.”

The general concept of how Newt’s world works has just been run over, repeatedly, by a school bus. At capacity. Holy shit. “Holy shit,” she says dazedly. “I can’t believe I’m not the stupidest person in the room right now.”

“What?” asks Hermine sharply, quickly rubbing at her eyes with the cuff of her blazer. Newt lets out a stray shout of hysterical laughter.

“Oh my God. Hermine, I wasn’t mad because I thought you liked me, I didn’t have any fucking clue you were flirting _at all_.”

Her eyes widen, and the hand drops to her side in shock. “You didn’t?”

Newt has to cover her mouth to keep from losing it. “No! No, and I never noticed because I was wrapped up in my own personal crisis about realizing I was in love with you!”

“You were?!” Hermine says even louder, cane dangling from her hand loosely. Then she pauses, uncertain. “Erー’was’?”

Newt scrubs a hand over her face and lets out a long, high sigh. “Mary at the fuckin’ tombーno, Hermine, is. Am.” She feels a surge of nerves and looks out through her fingers, feet shuffling together. “I _am_ in love with you. Present tense as of, well. A really long time.”

The grin that splits Hermine’s face in two makes Newt’s heart do jumping jacks. “Oh, Newton. That’sーwonderful. That’s very wonderful.” She readjusts her grip and takes two hesitant steps forward, hand fluttering around Newt’s shoulder. “Do you think I couldーI mean, may IーNewton, would you mind terribly ifー”

“You are so bad at this,” Newt says, disgustingly fond and takes her hand, pulling her down into a kiss.

Newt considers herself a pretty verbose, linguistically-adept kinda woman, but kissing Hermine sends both languages stored in her brain flying out within seconds, leaving behind only a single, stunned thought: _Woof_. 

“Not _too_ bad,” Hermine says a moment later, lips parted again in that tantalizing way; one of the few soft parts of her body, and thus requiring Newt’s special attention.

“I’ll teach you, whatever, I didn’t know you had freckles and it’s driving me fucking insane,” she replies, making just as valiant an effort to kiss every single one.


End file.
